


Next of Kin

by waywardjoy (CNK80Q3demoneyes)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 15:15:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11293302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CNK80Q3demoneyes/pseuds/waywardjoy
Summary: Saving people, hunting things, the family business.  It’s what they do best.  But what happens in the wake of impala taillights?  Is it all sunshine, roses, and business as usual for all involved? Or are some just destined to be collateral damage?





	Next of Kin

Lebanon, KS 2013

Sam made his way out to the kitchen, the sound of sizzling and Dean humming leading his way. He’d been rummaging through old boxes in his room in search of a specific book of angel lore when another object caught his eye. The dead cell phone, now clutched in his hand, was stirring a weird need and curiosity inside him. 

“Whatcha got there, Sammy?” Dean watched him plug something into a nearby outlet. 

Sam took his usual seat at the table. “I found this old phone in that box of stuff we salvaged from Bobby’s.”

“It looks like one of mine.” Dean plopped a plate of burgers on the table before taking his seat. 

“Yeah, I figured I would charge it and see if there are any useful numbers or anything on it.”

“Smart thinking, Sammy boy!” He said around a mouth full. 

“Gross. Don’t talk with your mouth full, dude.” Sam shook his head, exasperated at his brother’s lack of table manners.

The phone beeped, halting their juvenile banter. Sam picked it up and flipped it open. “Looks like you’ve got voicemail.”

Dean shrugged, popped a fry into his mouth, and raised an eyebrow in response.

“Wow. There’s ten of them. The most recent is dated only two weeks ago.” Sam turned it on speaker and let the message play.

Heavy erratic breathing could be heard along with some shuffling, before a woman’s voice, hushed in a whisper, began to speak. “Dean. I’m so scared. Please.” Her voice cut off, but her quiet sobbing could still be heard before the message ended.

The brothers looked at each other, both clearly concerned. Sam quickly hit play on the previous message.

The speaker was instantly filled with the same erratic breathing, but the voice was less whispered and easier to make out. “Dean, um, I-I need help. I don’t know what’s happening, but I am scared. This is worse than ever. I- I don’t know if you are even listening to my messages, but if you are please call me, 555-1843. I don’t have anyone else.”

“Dean,” Sam looked to his brother’s bewildered face. “Who is this girl?”

“I have no idea.” Dean pulled his current cell from his pocket and dialed the number the girl had given. It immediately clicked over to a no longer in service message. “Damn it. It’s out of service. Maybe you should play them from the beginning.”

“Yeah, okay. The first one is dated November 2, 2006.”

Dean’s eyebrows met his hairline. “Probably from someone else. Play it anyway.”

The sounds of loud music, talking, and clinking glasses could be heard before there was a voice. Then a girl’s voice began to speak. “It’s my birthday! Whoo-hoo! Twenty-one! Can you believe it, Dean? Me either. I never thought I’d make it this far.” She sounded a bit tipsy. The brothers exchanged confused looks as to who the mystery caller was. “I always call John on my birthday. He never picks up either. This time the message said to call you. So here I am calling you Dean. Not sure why. Not like you even remember me. Didn’t expect you to answer either. Your dad told me many many moons ago, if I ever needed anything to call. He’s never once answered. Guess that’s just one of those things you say to someone you drop off with strangers in the middle of the night. Not sure why I even bother. What am I even doing?” The message clicked off before she could ramble on anymore. 

“Any clues to who that was?” Sam asked. “Sounded like the same girl, didn’t it?”

“Definitely. But I still don’t know who she is. Play the next one, please.”

“This one’s dated November 2, 2007.” Sam clicked play again.

The same voice started immediately, “Hey Dean. Long time, no anything. It’s my birthday again. John’s phone is disconnected. Hope he’s okay. I still consider him my hero, even if he refuses to answer my calls for the last 11 years. Wow. I didn’t realize it’s been that many. Eleven years since the day he- he took me from them. You know, I had secretly hoped he was going to keep me. I sure would have loved having you and Sam for brothers. But who wants a damaged little girl. That was the best couple of weeks of my entire life though. Sam reading to me in the back seat of that big black car. You tucking me in at bed time in those hotels. Introducing me to cheeseburgers. John buying me my first proper pair of shoes. No one has ever been so kind.” A heavy sigh was heaved and then the message ended.

Sam’s voice was near a whisper when the message clicked off. “It's Y/N/N.”

 

****  
Raleigh, NC 1995

John Winchester was sure what he had been following had been a demon and he was desperate to capture it. He needed answers and this was his best lead in years. But what he would soon discover, would prove to be so much worse. 

The house was inconspicuous enough, blending in with the neighborhood. Decent cars, freshly mowed grass. A little shabby on the paint, but not too bad.

He crept in through the unlocked back door to search out the demon. He rounded the corner to the living room, flask of holy water in hand and stopped dead in his tracks. He knew instantly that what he was seeing would never be wiped from his memory. 

John would never know if the monster was her father, biologically speaking, but it didn’t matter. The visible abuse and neglect were enough. Enough that he couldn't wait to free her from her prison and go hold his own boys tight.

He tried to fight the bile that rose up as he watched the nightmare that unfolded before him. Half a dozen people were sprawled about the room. All in different stages of chemical intoxication. A small child, no more than ten years old, sat quietly in the corner, too skinny arms wrapped around scabbed over knees. Through the haze of smoke filling the room, he saw her rise from the floor to docilely and obediently climb into the lab of one of the monster’s friends, when he beckoned her with a quick hand motion. The beast instantly began to trail his dirty fingers up her equally filthy bare leg and under her threadbare dress. His smile was lecherous as she tried to squirm away from the unwanted touch. 

“Oh no you don’t. Be a good girl now.” The creep warned.

“Be good, Y/N and daddy will give you some candy.” The monster rose from his seat and grabbed a syringe from the cluttered coffee table. He grabbed the girl’s arm, none too gently, and placed the needle at the crook of her elbow. 

Her glazed eyes looked up to the monster, “Yes, daddy. Thank you, daddy.”

John had seen enough. Exchanging the flask for his .45, he stepped into the room. “Freeze!”

The monster dropped the syringe to the floor.

“Raleigh PD. Nobody move.” John motioned with his gun for the man to back away from the child. The man stepped back, putting his hands in the air. John quickly took in the surroundings, making quick note of the handgun on the coffee table amongst a large pile of drug paraphernalia. “On the ground. Now! Put your hands behind your head.” 

When the monster did as he was told, John stepped closer to him and snagged the gun from the table. He aimed it at the creep with the child in his lap. “Come here, sweetheart. No one’s going to hurt you.” She didn’t hesitate to rush to him. Clinging hard to his leg. Gentling his voice some, he addressed her again. “I need you to go stand by the front door for me ok. Let me get this under control real fast and I promise to get you out of here.” 

She turned tear filled eyes up to him. He gave her a small smile, “Go.” She hugged his leg tighter briefly before dropping her arms and doing as he told her.

Once he was satisfied she was out of the room, John approached the man in the chair. “You sick fuck. Get your ass on the ground before I shoot you in the fucking head.” He growled. 

The creep’s eyes widened momentarily in fear before slipping off the chair and onto the ground. John looked around the room again, making sure no one was coming to their aide. Seeing that they were all too lost in their own drug induced stupors, he proceeded to deal with the two at his feet. Ever grateful for his forethought, he exchanged the guns for zip ties he had in his coat pockets. “Either of you so much as twitches and I will unload these clips into your brains. Dead dirtbags means less paperwork. No one will mourn you.”

He knelt down next to the first monster and tied his hands together behind his back and then his feet. He quickly immobilized the second man the same way.

“The house is surrounded. Any of you think of leaving and it won’t end well. I will be back to deal with you all in a moment.”

Pulling his phone out, he quickly dialed Dean, and went to the little girl.

“Hey dad, need some help? Dean answered from the passenger seat of the impala. At sixteen, he was chomping at the bit to be allowed to assist and hated when he was left behind.

“There was a child. I am sending her out to you.”

Dean’s shocked intake of breath was expected. “You sure you don’t need me to-”

“No!” He cut off his son. He really wanted to get back to that room and figure out what to do. “I just need you to keep her safe. I’ve got this.” He hung up before Dean could argue.

Returning his attention to the child, he knelt down next to her and spoke softly. “Hey sweetheart. My son, Dean is outside waiting for you. I need you to go to him. Can you do that for me?” He waited for her to nod in response and then asked one more important question. “Are there any more children here?” 

“No officer. It’s jus’ me. Momma’s gone.” Her tiny confession broke his heart.

“Okay. That’s okay. We are going to take care of you and get you some place safe. Alright?”

She nodded again.

John stood and opened the door for her. Seeing Dean standing at the foot of the steps, he motioned for her to go. “That’s my boy, Dean. Go with him.” He waited for her to scurry down to Dean and with a curt nod to his son, shut the door.

John made quick work of tying up the other four men in the room. They had all been too lost in their own delirium to truly understand what was happening. He hauled the two original men up to sit on the couch before taking his own seat in front of them on the coffee table. 

“I’m going to let you all in on a little secret. I'm not really a cop.” He aimed both guns at their foreheads when they began to protest. “You see, I came here to put down a monster. I realize I made a mistake. Now, I have six to dispatch. I was willing to make it quick. Maybe even spare a couple of you. But the little girl? She’s your death sentence.”

 

When John resumed his position behind the wheel of the impala he found his oldest son in the back seat. The girl was bundled up in a blanket and fast asleep in Dean's lap. 

“What the hell happened in there?” 

“The worst kind of evil.” He met his son’s inquisitive eyes in the rear view mirror. “What do you say we pick up Sammy from school and get the hell out of dodge?”

“Sounds good, Dad.” Dean tightened his hold on the girl as they sped off, completely unaware of the flames that engulfed the house behind them. 

 

****  
The Bunker 2013

“I heard Jack and Emily died a few years back, car accident of all things. I always just assumed Y/N was all taken care of.”

“I never even thought to try to keep in touch after those first couple years. Dad said it was best to let her move on. That maybe she could forget her life from before.”

“Sounds like she’s not handling it so well.”

Dean ran a weary hand over his face, his dinner lay forgotten in front of him. “Play the next one.”

Without another word Sam clicked the play button on the message dated November 3, 2008.

“Hello, this is Dr. Brewer from Ocean Breeze Recovery in Pompano Beach, Florida.” A gruff voice filtered through the tiny speaker. “I am trying to reach a Mr. Winchester. We have you listed as next of kin for a Miss Y/N Spencer. She was under court order to complete treatment with us. She apparently checked herself out last night. Well, actually, she walked out the front doors seemingly cured after only 6 hours in our care. I am very concerned with her condition and would appreciate speaking with you as soon as possible. Please call our offices at-”

Sam stopped the message, concern weighing heavy on his brow, and looked to his brother. After a nod from Dean, he played the next message dated December 12, 2008.

“D-Dean? I-I don’t, I don’t know where I am.” Y/N sounded terrified. “I don’t know how I got here. It’s not like b-before. I am stone cold sober. I swear. Please Dean. You have to help me-”

This time the message cut off before she could continue. 

 

****  
Springfield, Ill 1995

Dean hated to be relegated to babysitting duty. He had already been on numerous hunts, but John had refused his pleas to go out with him on the next “lead”. After six hours solid of driving they had finally stopped. John dropped the kids at a motel with strict instructions to stay put and look after their new charge. 

Dean knew Sam could handle hanging out with the girl, but after only a few hours he had grown fond of her. There was something about the haunted look in her eyes that let him know that the otherwise quiet and sweet child had seen some shit. His big brother instincts kicked in with an intense need to protect. The look Sammy gave him over her little head while reading to her let Dean know his brother felt exactly the same.

An audible grumble drowned out the sound of Sam’s quiet reading.

“Hey, Y/N. Are you hungry, sweetie?” Dean crouched down in front of the small couch the younger two were sitting on.

She averted her eyes and gave a small shrug in response. 

“Well, I am starving! How about we go to the diner across the street and have some dinner?” Dean suggested.

“Dean,” Sam hissed to get his brother to look at him. “I think maybe Y/N would like to stay here with me and maybe have a warm bath. You can bring us back some food.” He looked pointedly at the child’s obvious neglected appearance. 

“Sounds great. Would you like a cheeseburger, Y/N? Maybe some pie?” Dean’s grin was met with silence and sad pleading eyes.

“Dean, why don’t you just pick us all out something delicious? Y/N, how about a nice warm bubble bath while we wait?” Sam hoped the temptation of bubbles would get a smile, but instead was met with fear and resignation.

Dean was quick to understand the problem. “You know how to wash your own hair, don’t ya, Y/N? Sam doesn’t need to help. He will just wait out here for you, guard the door. How’s that sound?”

“Let me get your bath ready, then I will just wait here and find you something warm to wear. Dean will be back with our dinner by the time you are finished.” Sam breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the fear fade from the child’s eyes.

“With bubbles?” she smiled tentatively. 

“Um, let me see what I can find, but yeah, you can have bubbles.” Sam disappeared into the bathroom. “Aha!” 

Sam’s triumphant shout had his brother chuckling. “That better not be my shampoo you’re using!”

“It’s dad’s!”

“Okay. You enjoy your bath. I will be back soon with food.” Dean patted the little girl on the shoulder and headed out.

Nearly an hour later, freshly scrubbed and pruny, wearing some old rolled up sweatpants of Sam’s and Dean’s shrunken old Zeppelin shirt, smelling strongly of Old Spice, Y/N sat at the rickety old motel table devouring her very first cheeseburger. 

 

****  
The Bunker 2013

Sam pulled himself from his memories and saw a far off look on his brother’s face, telling him Dean had been thinking about the same things. He went ahead and played the next message, dated March 28, 2009.

The voice that came through the speaker was heavily slurred and somewhat muffled, “Heeeeey Dean-o! Deanie-bo-beanie! How’s it hanging?” A snorted giggle cut in over the line. “Just wanted to call and say hi. Cause that’s what I am. Whoooo! So high! They gave me the gooooood stuff. I’mma s’pose to call my ‘next a kin’. I don’t have any kin. But the nurses didn’t like my answer. Says I can’t walk home on crutches. I n’d a cab.” The message ended without any further explanation.

“What the hell happened to her?”

“Man, who knows what she’s gotten herself messed up with. Drug dealers, pimps, the mafia. I don’t know.” Dean huffed out in frustration. “Just play the next one.”

The message dated November 30, 2009 started playing with a stern woman’s voice. “This message is for Mr. Dean Winchester. I am calling on behalf of Kindred Hospital in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Your information is in our system for next of kin for a Miss Y/N Spencer. She was brought in by ambulance after suffering severe trauma from an accident. She walked out the front doors, most likely in shock, shortly after being brought in. She needs medical treatment. If you have any information about her whereabouts please call us at-”

Dean stopped the message, all traces of his earlier good mood were long gone. “We are just wasting time with this wild goose chase.” 

“We’re still waiting on Kevin to figure out the second trial. Cass and the angel tablet are still in the wind. There isn’t anything more important right now. That was two hospital visits in less than a year. She sounds like she needs help.” Sam tried to reason with his brother’s growing anger and frustration. 

“Exactly! We need to get back out there and look for Cass.” Dean took a long pull from his beer, needing a minute to calm down a little. “It sounds like she's made some poor life choices. But I don't think that makes her our responsibility. She’s a grown woman.” 

“You sound just like dad.”

 

****  
Des Moines, IA 1995 

“How long are we staying at Uncle Bobby’s this time?” Sam followed his father into their latest motel room. Dean followed close behind with a sound asleep little girl in his arms. 

John sighed at the customary question. “Not long. He’s found someone to take Y/N.”

“Take her? What do you mean take her?” Dean placed the sleeping child on the bed farthest from the door. Tucking her in and kissing her temple as she stirred.

“You know exactly what I mean. She’s not a lost puppy. We can’t keep her.” John scowled at his eldest. He knew he’d run into some objections, but he knew this would be best for everyone.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t mean we have to abandon her with strangers.”

“She isn’t your concern.”

“She’s been nothing but my concern for weeks now, dad! I think I deserve some say in what happens to her!” Dean’s shout startled the child awake. 

“Dean?” A tiny voice whimpered.

Throwing a glare over his shoulder at his father, Dean hurried to child’s bed. “I am sorry. Did I wake you?”

“You yelled. S-scared me.” She sniffed.

Dean ran his hand over her hair trying to soothe. “Do you think you can go back to sleep for me?”

“I-I didn’t get my story yet.”

“I can read it now. Then we can both go to sleep.” Sam climbed in bed next to her, book in hand. He was more than happy to help distract from his dad and brother fighting. “Okay, where were we?”

“Lucy just asked Mr. Beaver what happened to Mr. Tumnus.” Y/N yawned and tucked herself into Sam’s side.

As Sam began to read, Dean followed his father into the adjoining bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

“So what? You’re just going to drop her off with strangers and wash your hands of the whole thing?” Dean’s anger hadn’t yet begun to ebb.

“Keep your tongue, boy. You shouldn’t let yourself get so attached. We saved her from a pretty nasty situation, but that doesn’t make her our responsibility. She needs more than we can provide for her. She needs stability. ” John made sure to make eye contact before continuing. “She needs a mother.”

His dad’s words stung. Sammy needed the same thing. Dean did too. He tried to hide what those four little words did to him. “Is it safe? She needs protection. What if monsters come for her again? We can protect her.”

“Jack and Emily Spencer are good people.” At his son’s dubious look John continued, “ They are retired hunters. They know what to do to protect her. She will be happy and safe with them. You have to let her go, son.” John placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. “She’ll be okay.”

 

****  
The Bunker 2013

“Don’t do that, Sam. Don’t compare me to Dad like that.” Emotions he really didn’t want to show clogged Dean’s throat. “I went back for her. When I was eighteen and on my own hunt. I took a detour through Aurora.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it didn’t pan out like I thought. It was really late when I got there, so I peeked in the window.” Dean sighed again, “She was sitting on the couch curled up reading with Emily. She looked so- so content. Happy even. I just couldn’t.”

Sam looked on silently and waited with sympathy while his brother fought for the right words.

“She had it all. White picket fence, dog in the yard. Ya know, the perfect childhood. I wanted her to forget her past. Forget us. I had hoped- needed to believe she’d get what we never would.” Dean chugged the remainder of his beer and set the bottle down none too gently. 

“All the more reason we should find her. She needs us.”

“Fine, Sam. What do you suggest we do about this? How the hell are we supposed to find her anyway? She could be anywhere.”

“There’s still a few messages left. Maybe there will be a clue?”

“There haven’t been many so far. We’ve got a very random list of locations that span several years.”

“Right. But maybe if we look hard enough we can find a pattern. Treat it like a case.”

“Okay.”. Dean nodded and Sam pressed play on the message dated May 29, 2010.

“Dean. Um. I- I am fine. Please dis-disregard m-my previous messages. I won't bother you again.”

As the message ended, the brothers exchanged dubious looks. 

“There's only one left. It's only 3 weeks old.”

“Hope there's something useful in it.” Dean got up to retrieve a fresh beer from the fridge as Sam started the final message.

“I saw a newspaper today. It’s 2013? How is that even possible? I-I don’t remember 2012. How am I missing a whole year? There’s just nothing. Last thing I remember is going through some of Jack and Emily’s stuff they kept in an old storage unit. I found a picture of you boys and me from that last day. Then I was suddenly here. Wherever here is. God, I don’t even know where I am, let alone how I got here.” Her voice cut off on a sob.

“Son-of-a-bitch. Possession? Really?” Dean slammed his half drained bottle on the table.

“Sure sounds that way. Demons do prey on the vulnerable. But now at least we have somewhere to start.”

“You think you can find that storage unit?”

“There can't be that many Jack and Emily Spencers in Aurora, South Dakota.” Sam stood to fetch his laptop. 

“It seems-”

The old cellphone vibrating across the table interrupted him. They both stared at it momentarily frozen before Sam snatched it up. “Hello?”

“Hello, is this Mr. Winchester?” A young woman asked.

“Yes.”

“I am calling from Smith County Memorial Hospital in Lebanon Kansas. We have you listed as the next of kin for Y/N Spencer.”

“Yes, yes of course. Is she alright?” He could feel Dean's stare boring a hole in the side of his head as he avoided eye contact. 

“I am sorry sir, I can’t give that information out over the phone-”

“Please. Damn it, just tell me if she’s alive.”

Sam’s pleading was followed by a long pause, “Sir, I- I am very sorry.”

“How?” Sam ran his hand over his eyes. 

She lowered her voice, “It is under investigation with the local law enforcement, but it appears that her throat was slit. I am sorry sir, but will you be able to come identify the body?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He cleared his throat, “I’ll be right down.” Sam lowered the phone from his ear and looked into his brother’s sorrow filled eyes. “Looks like we've got a case after all.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feedback is appreciated.


End file.
